


Can’t

by microwvae



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst?, Drunk!Zeren, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 06:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microwvae/pseuds/microwvae
Summary: Parties were never Wenjun’s thing.





	Can’t

**Author's Note:**

> not beta-ed, but what’s new

Wenjun sputters, chokes, and spits out his vitamin water at Zeren’s words.

“I’m sorry, a _what_ ?” he asks. Zeren snorts at him, grabbing napkins to clean up the red liquid from the table. “You’re _disgusting_ , you know that?” It’s more of a statement than a question, but Wenjun just shrugs and says nothing. “It’s just a party, Wenjun. Just come.” There’s exasperation in Zeren’s voice, both because of Wenjun’s lack of social skills and the fact that he was the only one cleaning up this stupid nongfu and saliva from the table. 

Wenjun grabs some more napkins and helps Zeren. “You know that’s not my thing, Z,” Wenjun says, flinging the last napkin into the nearby garbage can. (He misses the shot, but thankfully Zeren isn’t looking so he couldn’t make fun of him.) Instead, Zeren just rests his cheek on his palm and stares Wenjun down with a dull look in his eyes.

“You’d think that the president of an organization would be more into social interaction.”

Wenjun just shakes his head. Zeren smacks his hand down onto the table and starts wriggling in his seat, “ _Wenjun_ ,” he moans, dragging out the vowels of his name. “Come, _on_ , babe, please.” Zeren’s whining gains attention from the other people around the lounge, and at that moment, Wenjun really hates the fact that Zeren likes calling him “babe” even when they’re not together.

“Zeren, stop making so much _noise_ ,” Wenjun says, kicking the other’s shin. Zeren doubles over in exaggerated pain, a little _ow, ow, oww!_ coming from his lips. “That was unnecessary, mister. Why can’t you just go to the party? Chengcheng and Justin will be there!” Wenjun snorts.

“Yeah, sure, I’d definitely be invested in two children making out at a party.”

“Okay but, Xukun will be there too.”

“That’s the same case. Xukun makes out with everyone. Still not going.”

“Fine!” Zeren stands up and throws his hands in the air. Once again, the people in the lounge turn their heads in his direction and Zeren pays none of them any mind. “Be boring, you.. you loser.” Zeren’s lips jut out in a pout and Wenjun can’t believe how much of a child his best friend is.

Wenjun stands up with Zeren and puts a hand on his elbow, “Come on, you’re going to be late for your next class. I’ll walk you.” Zeren doesn’t say anything and just makes a face at Wenjun. Wenjun rolls his eyes, “The silent treatment? Are your 4?” 

“Are you still a loser?”

“Ding Zeren—”

“Nope. Not talking to you if you still want to be a loser.”

“My god, fine!” Wenjun exclaims a little too loudly; he feels about 13 pairs of eyes stab him. Rolling his eyes and pulls Zeren toward him, dragging him out of the lounge, “I’ll go to the stupid party.”

 

 

It’s about the worse decision Wenjun has made in his entire life.

The music is too loud and the bass makes his heart palpitate. It smells different types of clashing alcohols and—Christ, does weed really smell that bad? Wenjun rubs at his temples; two minutes in and he already wants to go home. But then he hears a slurred, “Wenjun!” and he realizes at this point, there’s no turning back.

Zeren strides over to him with a wide, dopey grin on his face, “You’re here!” he beams. Wenjun tries to smile, reaching his hand out to squish Zeren’s cheeks with his thumb and middle finger, “And you’re drunk.”

Zeren makes a face and swats his hand away, saying something about how it’s only cute when you do that to someone like Zhangjing or Quanzhe, since they had “fluffier cheeks.” Wenjun rolls his eyes a little bit, but Zeren doesn’t see it. Instead, he only takes ahold of his elbow, guiding him to the middle of the room, where the saturation of people was the most potent.

Wenjun can see everyone he knows—even Shuhao, a member of his own organization—is here. Two students—Wenjun recalls the pretty bio major and one that’s in engineering—are playing beer pong in the middle of the room. A bunch of bodies gather around the table to watch the game between Zhou Rui and Yanchen.

When Wenjun turns around, he can see Zeren slipping away from him toward the table, and Wenjun gulps a little bit. As Yanchen prepares to throw his shot, Zeren twines his arms around the latter from behind, whispering something in his ear. Yanchen falters a little bit, but the ball has already been flung from his hand, missing his shot completely. The crowd groans and Zeren snickers. Wenjun can see a little “sorry” spill from his lips before he returns to him.

“What was that?” Wenjun inquires, and Zeren only shrugs. “Rui asked me to distract him, so I did that.” he simply replies. Wenjun doesn’t push further. “I’m going home,” he says instead, beginning to walk away.

Zeren’s eyes snap open and he reaches out to grab Wenjun’s wrist, “You just got here!” is his argument. Wenjun shrugs, “I didn’t want to be here in the first place.” Zeren rolls his eyes, “What, are you mad about what I did with Yanchen? It’s not a big deal!”

Wenjun wasn’t mad about that, but something about Zeren suggesting that it was him flirting with some guy _did_ make him mad. There was this slow anger building up in his chest and he want to leave now before he made things worse. But Zeren keeps going and he doesn’t _fucking_ stop.

He’s drilling words into Wenjun’s ear, and it’s just the alcohol talking and Wenjun _knows_ that, but it’s still making him angry. He doesn’t even hear the last thing that Zeren says when he snaps. Wenjun pulls his body back, making Zeren’s grip on his arm slip.

“Yes, Zeren,” Wenjun barks, “I’m a prissy, little pansy that can’t handle parties or heat.” He begins walking away, “Now I’m _leaving._ ” Wenjun walks away, not sparing a single look back at Zeren.

  
Except he does look back, and he sees Zeren’s shoulders, deflated and upset. It’s a silhouette he’s seen too many times. And Wenjun doesn’t leave. He stays at the party. But being stupid, he walks away from Zeren and heads over to the kitchen.  

He sees a red cup sitting on the counter, and he doesn’t really care who’s it is, he just drinks. For the first time tonight (and _maybe_ in his life, but he keeps that a secret,) he chugs down his first cup of whatever-the-fuck kind of liquid is in there. “That’s my drink,” he hears from beside him.

When Wenjun turns around, he sees the slanted smile of Cai Xukun, his blonde hair streaked in the bright colors of party lights. Wenjun coughs out some sort of _sorry_ when he puts the red cup down. Xukun just laughs and shakes his head.

“I didn’t think I’d see _you_ here tonight,” he remarks, a smirk still on his lips as he rests his head on the palm of his hand.  

“Yeah…” Wenjun muses, “Me neither.”

Xukun puts his hand down and leans in, “So what’s wrong, Mr. President?” he inquires. Wenjun almost chokes, “I’m sorry, what?”

Wenjun realizes he’s been asking that question a lot recently.

Xukun’s laugh is breathy and light; Wenjun realizes how attractive Xukun really is and why he’s always has his arm around someone at parties like these. “You’ve clearly got something on your mind. Why else would our little president be downing a drink so desperately?”

Wenjun doesn’t say anything, he just refills his cup and takes a sip from it. Wenjun doesn’t think he’s crossed a line, per se. He has a right to be mad, doesn’t he? 

He does, right?

When he looks up, Xukun’s smile has gotten wider, cheshire like. “What?” Wenjun asks. Xukun only shakes his head and shrugs, “Nothing. I just think I’ve figured it out.”

Before Wenjun can even open his mouth, someone taps his shoulder. He turns around and sees  Yanjun in front of him. He can’t hear over the booming music and Yanjun doesn’t think to speak a little louder. But Wenjun can faintly put together the words _Zeren, puking,_ and _needs you._

That’s all it took.

Wenjun shoots up from his chair and Xukun calls something after him, but he doesn’t really care. Weaving through the crowd, he tries to find whatever door lead to the bathroom.  

When he does, he finds Zeren on the floor. His lips are chapped and his face is a little tear streaked. When Zeren’s eyes meet Wenjun’s, he doesn’t smile, nor does he turn away, he just sits there.

Wenjun closes the door behind him and it’s a lot quieter in the bathroom than it is out there. He wonders why he hadn’t retreated here earlier. He sits down next to Zeren, “I’m sorry,” is all he says. 

“I know.” is all Zeren replies.

The air filled with the scent of puke and alcohol, some febreeze, and Zeren’s cologne, (and for whatever reason, Wenjun can smell that the most.) Wenjun is about to say something again when Zeren scrambles for the toilet, and Wenjun rushes behind, one hand at Zeren’s side, another at his back.

And Zeren is puking. It’s clear at first, probably some more of the drink. Then there’s a small rest, and then he’s puking out bile in this disgusting green-yellow color, and he’s _crying_ because it hurts and it tastes bad and there’s just a lot of things he regrets tonight.

And Wenjun is behind him, rubbing circles against his back as he cries, bringing a hand up to run his fingers against the hairs nearest to the nape of Zeren’s neck. He’s whispering “shh, it’s okay,” against his ear and it’s driving him crazy, but it’s calming him down at the same time.

Zeren spits out the last of the bile and flushes the toilet. His hand reaches back and holds onto Wenjun’s leg, leaning into his touch. The position is awkward and Zeren’s arm is numb, but he doesn’t want to move his arm. Then Wenjun wraps his arms around Zeren’s frame and makes him feel secure and safe and okay. 

Wenjun keeps holding onto Zeren, continuing to whisper words of comfort; Zeren’s not crying or making fun of him, so he thinks it’s working. “You’re okay…” he chants again, rubbing at his side. Zeren curls up closer into Wenjun, and there’s that smell of puke and cologne again. “It’s okay, you’re okay…”

Zeren looks up from his spot on Wenjun’s chest, and he can see Wenjun looking back at him. Wenjun brushes the sweaty strands of hair stuck on his forehead away, and for the first time that night, he smiles.

Zeren adjusts his body again, and Wenjun doesn’t know what he’s trying to do. He’s not sure if there’s something on his face or if Zeren is trying to get comfortable or what. But Zeren is leaning in closer to him, and he’s slowly starting to freak out and— 

He feels it. He feels Zeren’s lips against his. And he can _taste_ it too; it tastes like bile, and saliva, and _Zeren_. And, Christ, he would have kissed him more if it weren’t for the fact that Zeren was drunk.

Wenjun presses a hand against Zeren’s chest, and he pulls away. Zeren leans in again, but this time, he only rests his forehead on Wenjun’s shoulder. “You know we can’t,” he whispers.

“I know,” is what Zeren replies.

So they stay like that for awhile, holding each other in their arms, sitting on the bathroom floor of whoever’s house. They don’t get up until someone is banging on the bathroom door, yelling that they need to piss.

Zeren lifts himself up from the floor and pulls Wenjun along with him, flinging the door open. Wenjun begins to take the lead between them, leading Zeren home.

Parties were never Wenjun’s thing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this ship needed more attention but that could just be me


End file.
